


One Tiny Problem

by etamiss



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid Fic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5544824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etamiss/pseuds/etamiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to the poor choices of some bandits, Fenris gets deaged to a small child. Since Hawke is quite fond of normal Fenris and also not great at dealing with children, no-one is particularly happy about this development.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is intensely self-indulgent, I'm very sorry.

"You are too late, _Champion_!"

There's a mockery to the title, as if Hawke actually picked it out himself rather than having it foisted on him by a grateful and flammable city, and Hawke just rolls his eyes as the leader of the bandits glares up at him from the ground.

He's near death already, bleeding heavily from several stab wounds, but he continues to show an impressive commitment to threats as he crows, "We will be victorious! All of Kirkwall will know the name of R-"

He dissolves into coughs. 

Hawke looks at him with sympathy. "Well, you tried."

"I shall succeed!" the leader grits out. 

A fireball forms in the palm of his hand, barely strong enough to light more than two feet of the tunnel, and Hawke kicks his arm with a sigh before he can throw it anywhere. The fireball rolls sadly away and Hawke draws his dagger as he says, "This is for the best, really."

He drives it through the bandit's chest with ease and steps back as death finally takes him.

Satisfied that he's dead, he turns around to where Isabela and Merrill are cleaning blood off themselves. "Anyone want to go for lunch? I think Alfonse has some rabbit pie today."

"Hawke!"

He turns around at Fenris' shout. "You do need to eat some sort of lunch, Fenris. I'll buy you all the wine you want later but you'd be missing out on-"

"The fuse!" Fenris cuts in and Hawke glances over his shoulder to see the fizz of fire along the floor of the cave. 

Claiming to have discovered the equivalent of qunari blackpowder, the bandits piled a wagon full of the stuff in one of the tunnels beneath Kirkwall with the intention of setting it alight and blowing half of Hightown to smithereens. Hawke managed to foil the bulk of the plan but his heart sinks as he realises that the leader's final fireball caught the tail end of the powder leading to the wagon of explosives.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…"

The four of them sprint for the wagon at the same time. Still shedding the last of her stone armor, Merrill falls behind but Hawke sees the flare of Fenris' lyrium as he jumps ahead in a fade-powered blur. The fuse flickers as it burns and Hawke slows to a jog as Fenris gets closer and closer to stopping it.

"He's not going to make it," Isabela says, gasping for breath. "It's burning too quick."

"He'll make it," Hawke says as Fenris leaps ahead again. "He's speedy, he-"

The fire reaches the wagon with Fenris just out of arm's reach.

"Shit," Hawke says. 

The hiss of the fuse seems to stretch on for an eternity but Hawke grabs Isabela and dives for cover when the wagon ignites. 

The explosion shakes through the tunnels, heat bursting from the barrels, and Hawke's eyes widen when the force of the detonation knocks Fenris clear off his feet to send him flying through the air. "Fenris!"

Green smoke rather than black billows from the wagon and Hawke pushes himself to his feet as he looks up at the roof of the tunnel in disbelief. It still looks firmly intact, with Hightown safe and secure above it, and Hawke's attention jumps back to Fenris before he can wonder too much about what the bandits actually put in those barrels.

"Fenris?"

Expecting a grumpy reply, Hawke can't help but be unsettled by the answering silence. He hurries over, shaking dust and soot out of his hair as he goes, but comes to an abrupt halt when he finds Fenris' weapons and armor in a heap on the ground with no Fenris in sight.

"Fenris!"

Dropping to his knees, he paws over the armor in search of clues but pulls back with a yelp when he touches something warm and alive. "What the-"

Something small and dark scrambles out from underneath Hawke's hands, making a beeline for a hiding place behind the nearest crate, and Hawke pushes himself back to his feet as Isabela and Merrill move to his side. 

"Did I hit my head or did Fenris just disappear?" Isabela asks.

"Both," Merrill says helpfully. "Did something just run away?"

"It's probably a demon," Hawke mutters. "It's nearly noon and nothing's tried to claw me to death yet. I knew it was too good to last."

"Maybe it's an animal," Isabela says hopefully. "Like that week you got turned into a cat. That was fun."

"You gave me ale and I threw up for a day."

"You stole my ale," Isabela corrects. "And Fenris is still living with you, so dealing with you as a smashed cat obviously didn't irreparably damage your relationship."

"I think Anders is still a little bitter," Merrill says. "Fenris was very protective."

"Quite _puss_ essive," Isabela agrees.

Hawke groans. "Please can we reminisce when we're not in the middle of a new crisis?" he says. "Once we have Fenris back, you can make bad cat jokes to your heart's content."

Isabela beams. "Deal."

"All right." He straightens up, drawing his daggers. "You go left and I go right. If it's a demon, we need it alive until we figure out how to get Fenris back."

"And if it's Fenris in cat form, I get to pet it first," Isabela says.

Hawke scowls as he inches closer to the crate. "You do remember that Fenris and I are together?"

"Yes, I've given it lots of thought," Isabela says, unashamed.

The creature doesn't move as they approach. It's curled up smaller than the crate, pressing itself against the wood and keeping very still, and Hawke comes to a halt when he makes out tiny brown toes poking out of the dark bundle. "What in the…"

Merrill's brow creases as she gets nearer. "Is it a very small demon?"

The maybe-demon whimpers at the question and Hawke readies himself when the bundle uncurls itself enough to lift its head. The mop of dark hair nearly obscures half its face but Hawke blinks in shock when he finds himself looking into a pair of familiar green eyes. "Fenris?"

Even as those eyes grow wider in fear, there's no mistaking their owner. Fenris' features are softer with youth, his skin unmarked with lyrium and his eyebrows slightly less impressive, but it's definitely his face that Hawke is staring at. He's tiny, swamped in Fenris' normal black tunic and covered with soot from the explosion, and Hawke's heart clenches at the silent tears which roll down his cheeks as Fenris watches him nervously. 

"Maker, Fenris…"

Fenris flinches back when Hawke drops to his knees in front of him. His voice is soft and higher pitched as he stammers, " _Obsecro te_ , _obsecro te_ , please-"

"Holy shit," Isabela says from behind Fenris.

"He's a child?" Merrill asks. "Creators, how is that possible?"

"Holy shit," Isabela says again with feeling.

Hawke scowls at both of them and tries to school his face into a non-threatening expression when he looks back at Fenris. Given the amount of blood on his clothes and hair, he's not confident he succeeds but he sheathes his daggers and holds his hands out to Fenris as he says gently, "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you understand me?"

" _V-Vero_ ," Fenris stutters. "Yes, ser."

"Great," Hawke says. "That's really great, Fenris." He grins. "You always were smarter than me. Do you speak Common?"

Fenris nods, pulling his knees up closer to his chin.

"All right," Hawke says. "We should introduce ourselves. My name is Hawke. Like the bird."

He flaps to demonstrate. Fenris watches, suspicious.

"This is Merrill," Hawke says, pointing behind Fenris to where Merrill is giving a wave. "And this is Isabela."

Isabela stares blankly until Merrill grabs her wrist and shakes it in a makeshift wave.

"We're your friends," Hawke continues. "Do you remember us?"

The tears keep falling as Fenris shakes his head. "Friends?"

"We're going to look after you," Hawke promises. "We're going to keep you safe until we put things right."

Fenris swallows hard, visibly bracing for a hit as he asks, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" the three of them say at the same time. The noise seems to scare Fenris more than a blow and Hawke lets Merrill be the one to speak up.

"You didn't do anything, sweetheart," she says gently. "There was just a small explosion which caused a little time distortion. Definitely not your fault at all."

Fenris stares up at her, lost. Hawke knows the feeling.

"You landed pretty hard," he says, inching closer to Fenris. "Are you hurt?"

Fenris' hesitation is as good as a 'yes' and Hawke ducks down to meet his eyes. "Can you show me where it hurts?"

More tears spill down Fenris' cheeks and he catches his lip between his teeth as he holds his arm out.

"Shit," Isabela says with sympathy.

His arm is badly swollen, the wrist bent at a worrying angle from where Fenris landed badly on the ground. While the bone hasn't broken the skin, his wrist is darkening where the blood is pooling beneath the surface and Hawke cringes at the lack of movement in Fenris' fingers.

"No wonder he's crying," Merrill says sadly. "You made much more noise than that the last time you broke your arm, Hawke."

"I think all of Darktown learned at least eight new curse words by the time Anders finished patching you up," Isabela says. "'Chickenfuck' was my personal favourite." She peers down into her cleavage. "I think I might have something to help with the pain in here somewhere…"

"I'm not drugging him," Hawke says. "He's so small -- I don't want to give him too big a dose by accident." He looks back at Fenris again. "We're going to get you to a very nice healer -- do you think you can keep being brave until then?"

There's something familiar about Fenris' expression when he nods. Hawke's seen it often enough when he asks Fenris to accompany him to the Bone Pit or the sewers or anywhere that Anders will be but it's more than a little heartbreaking to see it on a child with a badly broken arm.

Fenris wipes at his nose with his good hand and Hawke pats him on the shoulder. "Thank you. Can you stand up for me?"

It takes a bit of assistance from Hawke and Merrill but Fenris makes it to his feet, holding his injured arm to his chest. His tunic is awkwardly large, sagging around him and catching under his feet, but Isabela draws a knife from her boot and slices the bottom off before any of them can stop her. 

Once the tunic only just reaches Fenris' knees, Hawke uses half a bootlace to cinch it tighter around Fenris' waist and then steps back to admire his handiwork.

The tunic promptly falls half off Fenris' shoulder and flares out oddly from his waist.

"We need to get you new clothes," Hawke says, defeated. "Also a bath and some food and possibly a nap." He looks up at Isabela and Merrill. "Do you know anything about children?"

"I know to avoid them," Isabela offers. "They have sticky hands and make lots of noise."

"That describes at least six of the men you've dated in the last three years."

Isabela waves it away. "Dated is a very strong word. Besides, I'm not the one currently dating a four year old."

Hawke rubs his eyes. "Thank you so much for your support." He sighs. "I miss Fenris. Big Fenris."

"I'm sure there's a way to get him back," Merrill says, ever optimistic. "Hopefully it won't involve blood sacrifices."

"I can dream," Hawke says honestly. 

Between them, Fenris whimpers and Hawke looks down to see that he's back on his knees. 

"Oh, no," he says quickly, crouching down and cupping Fenris' cheek in an effort to stop him shaking. "There won't really be any blood sacrifices, we promise."

"And definitely not with you," Isabela says, ruffling Fenris' dark hair. "We only stab bad people."

Fenris stares up at her with impossibly wide eyes. Hawke wills away the headache forming at his temples. 

"Nobody is stabbing anybody," he says firmly. "We are all very nice people who are in no way prone to violence."

Merrill clears her throat and nods to the bodies of the bandits littering the cave.

"All these people just happened to die of natural causes before we got here," Hawke continues smoothly.

Fenris clambers back to his feet to peer at the body of the bandit leader (and the numerous stab wounds thereon). 

Hawke coughs into his fist. "Extremely bloody natural causes. It's very tragic." 

Catching Fenris by the shoulders, he rotates him away from the bodies and then gets to work on tugging the sleeve off his shirt. It's one of his better ones but he's pleased to discover that the bloodstains aren't even that noticeable as he bends down to loop it around Fenris' arm. 

He tries very hard not to notice how pliable Fenris is, despite the amount of pain he has to be in, and concentrates on fastening the makeshift sling around his neck and shoulder before crooking a finger under his chin. "How does that feel?"

Fenris' face is still far too pale but the tears seem to stop a little when he nods. "B-Better, ser."

"Great." Hawke gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he stands and holds his hand out. "How about we go and see the very nice healer? He'll get you all fixed up."

It feels like a victory when Fenris reaches up to take his hand. Fenris falls into step beside him, bare feet padding along the dirt of the tunnels, and as they head for the exit up to Darktown, Hawke catches Isabela's whisper, "Please can I be there when you try to explain this to Anders?"


	2. Chapter 2

"What's a pirate's favourite demon?"

At Isabela's side, Merrill frowns. "A desire demon? You liked that one in the fade."

"Nope." Isabela beams. "An arrrrcane horror."

Hawke groans. "That's awful."

"I have more," Isabela says. Hawke isn't sure whether that's a promise or a threat. "Where's a pirate's favourite place?"

"Rivain?" Merrill guesses.

"The Arrrrbor Wilds!"

"You're a monster," Hawke says sincerely.

"Fenris is enjoying them," Isabela says. "He almost smiled at that one."

"Uh-huh," Hawke says with a heavy amount of skepticism. "I'll take your word for it."

Fenris made it about halfway through the tunnels towards Darktown before pain and confusion slowed him too much. Worried about jostling his injured arm if he carried him, Hawke fashioned a pair of smallclothes for Fenris from the other sleeve of his shirt and then settled him in place on his shoulders. His bare legs rest against Hawke's chest as they wind their way through Darktown and his little fingers curl in Hawke's hair to help him keep his balance.

"Ooh, I have one!" Merrill says. "Who's a pirate's favourite qunari leader?" 

She doesn't wait for an answer as she smiles proudly. "The Arrrrishok."

Hawke chuckles at that. 

Isabela puts a hand over her eyes. "Little close to home there, kitten."

"We can change the topic," Hawke says. "To literally anything other than pirate jokes."

"And I hadn't even got to Roger the cabin boy yet," Isabela says, disappointed. She pauses for a moment to think but the smile that follows is a source of concern. "What do you call a carriage full of magisters driving off a cliff?"

On his shoulders, Fenris tenses at the mention of magisters but Hawke can't see his face before Isabela finishes, "A good start."

A small giggle escapes Fenris' lips. Hawke looks up to see Fenris clap his hand over his own mouth in surprise and he tickles Fenris' bare foot as he says, "Damn, I should've known that dead magisters would win you over."

"I- I'm sorry," Fenris stammers. "I didn't mean-"

"Don't be sorry," Isabela says with a pointed look at Hawke. "I'm just happy that _someone_ appreciates my comedic efforts." She bounds up the steps to Anders' clinic. "What do you call a magister whose ears have been cut off?"

Merrill wrinkles her nose but Isabela continues regardless, "Anything you like -- he can't hear you."

Another stifled giggle escapes from behind Fenris' hand and Hawke shakes his head. "Well, I'm glad that bad things happening to magisters still makes you happy, even at this age."

The doors to the clinic are closed and Hawke doesn't bother knocking before poking his head around one of them. "Anders, is everybody decent?" 

"I can't help but notice that you came in before asking that," Anders says tiredly. It takes Hawke a moment but he soon spots him stretched out on a bed with a damp cloth over his eyes, clearly on the verge of napping. "I thought you'd learned your lesson after what happened with Martin."

Hawke opens the door the whole way and maneuvers Fenris under the doorframe. "I like to think it brought me and Martin closer together."

"Because so many lifelong bonds are formed during interrupted rectal examinations." Anders sits up with a groan, tossing the cloth to one side and rubbing his eyes. "Are you injured? How many bandits were-"

He stops and blinks up at Fenris.

"Say hi," Hawke whispers to Fenris.

Fenris waves with his good hand. 

"Oh." It's a testament to the strength of their friendship that Anders only stares at him blankly for a few moments before asking, "Why is there a small elf on your shoulders?"

"He's injured," Hawke says. "He broke his arm in a fall -- it looks pretty bad. Think you can help?"

"As if I haven't fixed your broken bones dozens of times," Anders says, already going for his supplies. "Sit him on the table."

Hawke does as instructed, fitting his hands under Fenris' arms and lifting him off his shoulders to a seat on the table. "I'll be right here, okay? This is Anders. He'll make your arm feel better."

"So how did you end up looking after a kid?" Anders asks, rummaging through an intimidatingly large box of potions. "Did you hit your head and mistake him for a dog?"

Hawke raises his eyebrows. "This from the man who nearly headbutted a templar over a cat?"

He doesn't need to look over to know Anders is scowling. "I'd had a very stressful day," he mutters. "And it was a very friendly cat. Now stop avoiding my question. Where did you find the elf?"

"Technically we didn't really find him," Hawke says. "He-"

"It's Fenris," Isabela says flatly.

Anders' eyebrows shoot up. "Fenris has a child?" He looks back at the elf. "I hope it enjoys corpses and monologues."

"No-" Hawke sighs. "It's not Fenris' kid. It's Fenris himself."

Anders opens and closes his mouth.

Isabela pats him on the shoulder. "You'll get there."

"There was an explosion," Merrill says. "In the tunnel. Fenris was close to it and we think that's why he got…"

She makes a squashing motion with her hands.

Anders looks between the three adults in shock before staring back at Fenris. "What the fuck?"

Hawke makes a scandalised noise and puts his hands over Fenris' ears. "Language! There are children present."

"He's already met you and Isabela," Anders says. "I can't believe that's the worst he's heard." 

He's not wrong. Hawke takes his hands off Fenris' ears and smoothes his hair down as Anders asks, "How is this Fenris? Was there magic involved? Can we reverse it?"

"I'm honestly flattered that you think I'd know the answer to any of those questions," Hawke says. "I don't know what happened. I'm really hoping there's a way to reverse it but until then we have a kid to deal with. He's going to need food and clothes and a bed and a not broken arm and-" He swallows. "I am not prepared for this much responsibility."

"None of us are," Merrill says with sympathy.

It's not as comforting as she presumably intended.

"Right," Anders says, tucking his hair behind his ears. "At least I can help with the not broken arm. The rest may be up to you."

"Thank you," Hawke says sincerely. He crooks a finger under Fenris' chin and then reaches around to untie the sling. "Easy now. Anders needs to look at your arm."

Fenris nods, lower lip caught nervously between his teeth. 

Beside him, Anders sounds thoroughly annoyed when he says under his breath, "He's cute."

Hawke grins. "I knew you'd grow to love him eventually."

Anders doesn't dignify that with a response as he rolls his sleeves up and moves to stand in front of Fenris. "Can you hold your arm out for me?"

Fenris glances up at Hawke for approval and holds his broken arm out when Hawke nods. 

"That's good," Anders says. "Now just hold it there…"

His palms glow white with healing magic but it vanishes in an instant when Fenris scrambles backwards with a cry. 

It's only the presence of Merrill behind him which stops him tumbling off the table and he looks up at Hawke in panic, holding his injured arm to his chest. " _Obsecro te! Modestus ero!_ "

"Shhh, it's okay," Hawke says, reaching out to reassure him. "Is it the magic? Did it scare you?"

" _Modestus ero,_ " he pleads, moving to his knees and curling his fingers around one of Hawke's wristbands. " _Nolite me vulnerare…_ "

"I- I'm sorry, I can't speak that language," Hawke says. "What's wrong?" 

He glances around for help but while Isabela and Merrill seem equally lost, Hawke doesn't miss the look of concern on Anders' face. "Anders, do you understand him? What's he saying?"

"It's Tevene," Anders says. "I've only read books in it -- I'm nowhere close to fluent -- but I think he's saying he'll be good. Well-behaved." He grimaces. "He says he doesn't want to be hurt."

The fear on Fenris' face is painful to look at and Hawke crouches down to his level as he cups his cheek. Fenris flinches at the touch and Hawke meets his eyes as he says, "No-one's going to hurt you. Not while I'm here."

Fenris looks up at him with wide eyes. "No punishment?"

"No punishment," Hawke promises. "You're safe here."

Behind Fenris, Merrill has a hand over her mouth and Hawke can't help but feel guilty on behalf of normal Fenris when he sees the pity on Isabela's and Anders' faces. It feels like they're all intruding, prying into a piece of Fenris' past they have no right to see, and he takes Fenris' hand in his as he tries to steer them back to safer ground.

"I know you must have dealt with some assho- very nasty mages in the past," Hawke says calmly, "but Anders isn't like that. He's a healer." 

Anders gives an awkward wave. Fenris stares at him, unconvinced, and Anders lowers his hand with a sigh. "I never thought I'd actually miss being called an abomination three times an hour."

"How about a demonstration?" Hawke offers. "Of the healing, I mean, not of being an abomination." 

It takes him a moment to find an injury -- he's definitely getting better at this whole combat thing -- but he holds up his grazed elbow with a triumphant cry. "Ha! Watch, Anders will heal this wound."

Isabela narrows her eyes. "Is that from where you tried to hurdle a barrel and missed?"

"Let's not dwell on the source of the injury," Hawke says. (The barrel was a lot sturdier than it looked.) "What matters is that my glamorous assistant here will heal it."

"How am I your glamorous assistant?" Anders grumbles. "I'm the one who actually does the magic."

"It's the feathers," Hawke says. "I'm sorry, I don't make the rules."

Sighing, Anders reaches out, hand aglow. Fenris shrinks back, grip tightening on Hawke's hand, but he pauses when the magic pours out into Hawke's arm. It seeps into Hawke's skin, smoothing away the itch of pain, and he shows off his healed elbow to a wide-eyed Fenris. "See? All fixed." 

He nods to Fenris' broken arm. "Can he take a look at yours too? He's very nice, I promise." He elbows Anders in the side. "Look nice."

Anders gives Fenris a broad, strained smile which involves far too many teeth.

Hawke claps a hand over Fenris' eyes as he makes a faux-horrified noise. "What was that?"

"I was looking nice!"

"That may be the most terrifying thing I've ever seen," Hawke says. "Haven't we all been through enough today?"

The fake smile disappears from Anders' lips. "How are we friends?"

"Bribery and perseverance," Hawke says. "Now, if I take my hand away, will you smile like a normal human?"

"Yes," Anders mutters. "But next time you come to me with an embarrassing injury, I'm not going to pretend to believe your cover story."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hawke lies but lifts his hand away from Fenris' eyes before Anders can argue further about whether a malevolent imp really did burn off half of Hawke's eyebrow in a dramatic act of revenge.

Fenris blinks when the room comes back into view and looks up at Anders in trepidation as he gathers his magic in his palm again.

"Well, you're not fleeing," Anders says. "This is already an improvement."

He clicks his fingers together to make a tiny ball of sparks fly off and his lips curve in a far less traumatic smile when Fenris watches, entranced, as it hangs in mid-air. "I'm going to look at your arm now. Can you keep a close eye on the, uh, magic pixie for me while I do that?"

Isabela snorts from behind them but Fenris nods seriously, still watching the dancing ball of sparks. 

He barely reacts when Anders goes to work on his arm, wreathing it in white to dull the pain before reaching in to correct the bone with force magic. Fenris follows the ball, tracing its course as it spins through the air, and Merrill leans over his head to whisper, amazed, "Did you hypnotise him?"

Anders shakes his head. "Just learned that small children are easily entertained by- Hawke, don't touch it."

Foiled, Hawke lowers his arm.

"All right," Anders says to Fenris, "try to wiggle your fingers."

Tearing his eyes away from the bouncing sparks, Fenris complies and does an astonished double-take when his fingers move as normal. He flexes them again, smiling in disbelief, and reaches out with his other hand to give the white swirls of magic a tentative poke.

"You two were clearly meant to be together," Anders says dryly, guiding Fenris' fingers away from the magic. 

He lifts Fenris' arm but frowns as he runs his hand down the length of the bone. "Have you ever hurt this arm before?" he asks. "Maybe a year or so ago?"

Fenris nods, not meeting Anders' eyes, and Anders crouches in front of him. "Did you fall?"

Fenris nods again. "I dropped the laundry. The vilicus was angry."

Hawke frowns. "What's a vilicus?"

"Overseer," Isabela says. "I used to have one in my crew. She figured a life of piracy on the high seas was better than being ordered to beat slaves."

Hawke grimaces and Anders stands upright again as he says carefully, "When the vilicus hurt you, your arm didn't mend itself properly. Is it still sore sometimes? Maybe when it's cold or you're carrying something heavy?"

Fenris nods, stunned.

"I can heal it," Anders says, "but it's a slow process. I need to use magic and then put some plaster on your arm to help it get better. Can you wait here with Hawke while I get my things?"

"Yes, ser."

Anders sighs as he turns away. "I never thought Fenris being polite would be such a depressing experience."

"Well, we are in Kirkwall," Isabela points out. "Never underestimate how many depressing experiences this place can provide."

Fenris looks between them, perplexed. "What's Kirkwall?"

"A hotbed of corruption and oppression run by a power-mad zealot," Anders says, setting his supplies at Fenris' side and conjuring a white mist of power again. 

"It's like someone combined a city and a toilet," Isabela adds.

"But," Hawke stresses, "it's also a lovely, friendly place where you will be safe and nothing bad will ever happen to you."

"Hawke's right," Merrill says. "People can be very friendly here. I had tea with the Crimson Weaver Bloodragers last week."

"You-" Hawke takes a breath. "Merrill, please don't join a gang."

"I haven't joined," Merrill says. "At least I don't think so? Does having crumpets count as joining?"

Hawke pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't even keep Merrill away from a life of crime. _Merrill_. How am I supposed to raise a child?"

"We should go back to the tunnels later," Anders says, wrapping bandages around Fenris' arm. "See what was really in that wagon. If we can work out what mixture did this, there may be a way to undo it. Hopefully before your parenting does any irreparable damage."

"This is an excellent plan," Hawke says, pointing to Anders. "I like this plan. Keep them coming."

"I think you'll be good at looking after him," Merrill says. "You're a good person, Hawke. You can keep him safe until we solve this."

"No, I'm definitely liking the first plan better," Hawke says. "The 'no irreparable damage' part was key. More like that, please."

"There," Anders says to Fenris as he wipes his hands clean. "All done." He slips into healer mode with ease, addressing Hawke as much as Fenris. "You need to keep the cast on for a couple of weeks, just to give your arm time to heal properly. Don't get it wet, don't do anything strenuous and don't try to take it off. Hawke will bring you back in to see me in two weeks."

The cast is tiny, wrapping around Fenris' wrist and forearm with a hole for his thumb, and he wiggles his fingers with a small smile. "Thank you, ser."

Anders does a double-take. "I, uh- You're welcome?"

There's a short pause while that sinks in and then Anders turns on Hawke. "We need to fix him. I don't like this."

"No-one likes this," Hawke says, running a hand through his hair. "All right, Merrill and Isabela, we'll go back to the tunnel. Anders can stay here with Fenris."

"Nope," Anders says flatly. "You're not pawning him off on me."

"But you said he was cute!"

"That doesn't mean I want to be responsible for him!"

"You're good with children," Hawke tries. "Just make some more magic pixies, you'll be fine."

"I live in a glorified sewer," Anders says. "I run a clinic full of people who've been in fights, drunk too much ale, fallen off something high or had some kind of sexual misadventure. And oh, not to mention that I'm an apostate in a city full of borderline-rabid templars!"

Hawke's shoulders sag. "So that's a no?"

"Oh, no, I can definitely take him," Anders says sarcastically. "I'm sure meeting Justice would go really well."

"Point taken," Hawke says with a sigh. "Isabela? Merrill?"

"I would," Merrill says, "but I promised I'd see Tilani this afternoon. We thought her brute of a husband had finally left town but someone's seen him by the docks and I said I'd make her some tea to help calm her nerves."

"It's a no from me too." There's a dangerous edge to Isabela's smile when she says, "I'm going to visit Tilani's husband." It disappears in an instant when she ruffles Fenris' hair. "Looks like you're stuck with Hawke here."

Fenris looks up at Hawke, trusting and expectant, and Hawke yields embarrassingly quickly. "All right." 

He tries to rub some dirt off Fenris' cheek but only succeeds in spreading it further. "I need to go visit Seneschal Bran -- we can get you some clothes and food on the way." He glances over at Anders. "You don't have any elf sized clothes, do you?"

Anders ponders for a moment. "I have a very small sack?"

Hawke sighs and tugs Fenris' tunic back up onto his shoulder. "I'll buy some real clothes. I'm not even going to bother asking if you have food."

Anders scowls. "I have food!"

"For things other than cats?"

"I don't have food," Anders says, resigned.

"I'll buy some food on the way too," Hawke says as Fenris rubs his eyes with a yawn. "What are your feelings on fudge?"

Anders makes a quiet, pained noise which Hawke chooses to ignore. 

"I don't know, ser?" Fenris says, lost.

"How about we go and find out?" Hawke says. Fenris is light in his arms as he picks him up and Hawke watches as Fenris' head immediately comes to rest against his shoulder. "There's apple dumplings too -- you like those. Oh, and those powdered sugar things. Plus there's a stall which sells these treacley globs of-"

"Hawke."

Isabela's voice is low and Hawke follows her nod to see that Fenris is already fast asleep against his shoulder. 

"Oh." He looks back up to Isabela and whispers, "Is that good?"

Isabela shrugs. "He's alive?"

"You have a really low bar for 'good'," Hawke mutters. 

Fenris lets out a sleepy murmur as he buries his face in Hawke's shoulder, peaceful and sleeping and also increasingly heavy. 

"I should get moving," Hawke whispers. "Maybe if he's asleep I won't drop him."

Anders pats him on the shoulder. "Aiming high, I see."

"Please go look around the tunnel when you can," Hawke says, talking mostly to Merrill and Anders as he backs towards the door. "We need to fix this."

"I'll go first thing tomorrow," Merrill promises. "We'll get him back to his proper age, Hawke. Don't worry."

"Easier said than done," Hawke says. He shifts Fenris enough to free his arm to open the clinic door but is immediately glad Fenris is asleep when he nearly walks into the man on the other side. 

He's young and red-cheeked and Hawke is almost certain there's some sort of grapefruit wedged in the front of his trousers.

"I- I, uh-"

Behind Hawke, Anders sighs. "Come in, Unwin."


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris sleeps like a log the whole way to Hightown.

Since he also feels about as a heavy as a log (albeit a very endearing log which Hawke would die to protect), Hawke is grateful for all those winters spent carrying lumber in Lothering by the time he makes it up the last set of steps and into the market. His arms ache from the exertion and he can't help the sweep of relief when Fenris stirs. "Oh, thank fuck."

The relief is short lived when he realises that, although his arms will be spared any further exercise, he will now have to deal with a small, awake child.

Fenris makes a quiet, tired noise against Hawke's shoulder and Hawke sets him down gingerly on one of the benches lining the walls as he whispers, more to himself than to Fenris, "Please don't cry, please don't cry..."

Much like the bookcase he built for Bethany as a teenager, he's half-convinced Fenris will fall apart if left unattended and so he hovers anxiously as he waits for him to wake up.

It takes a moment for Fenris to come around, rubbing at his eyes with tiny fists. Like Hawke's short-lived bookcase, he sways at first but, rather than disintegrating entirely at the slightest breeze, he nearly topples backwards off the bench in terror when he catches sight of Hawke.

He's only saved from falling when Hawke catches his bare legs to hold him in place. He cowers, raising his injured arm to shield himself, and Hawke crouches down in an effort to stem the sudden fear. "Hey, it's all right. It's just me."

The lack of recognition stings a little, especially after he just carried him all the way up from Darktown, but Hawke can't really blame Fenris for being overwhelmed. Having also been accosted by large bearded strangers upon waking up, he knows it's not always a soothing experience.

"Do you remember me?" he asks gently. "Hawke? I was there when the feathery mage fixed your arm."

He taps Fenris' cast and is pleased to see Fenris' breathing calm when he looks down at it. "Can I take that as a yes?"

"Yes, ser," Fenris says, lowering his hands back to his lap. "I- I'm sorry, ser."

Normal Fenris isn't usually one for apologies -- after stealing half of Hawke's pie last week, his only reaction was to suggest Hawke guard his food more diligently -- and so the (wholly unnecessary) contrition is unsettling.

"Don't be sorry," Hawke says. He takes Fenris' hand in his, linking their fingers together for reassurance. "I get forgetful after naps too. Isabela can attest."

Fenris' grip tightens on his fingers as he looks around, confused.

"Ah," Hawke says, "this is Hightown. It's the fancy part of Kirkwall -- there are a lot fewer corpses around." He offers a sheepish grin. "We live here."

Fenris' eyes snap up to his. "I live with you?"

"You do," Hawke says with a smile. "I may or may not have bribed you into it with wine."

It was honestly one of the proudest days of Hawke's life but his smile fades when Fenris draws a different conclusion from their living arrangements. "You own me?"

"No!" Hawke can't hide his grimace at the thought. "No-one owns you, Fenris."

"My master-"

"Your master's gone," Hawke promises. "You're safe here."

"Did he sell me?" Fenris asks, clearly terrified at the prospect. "Did I do something bad?"

Hawke decides against relaying the gory details of Danarius' heart being ripped from his chest. Mini Fenris probably wouldn't appreciate it as much as normal Fenris did.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Hawke reassures him. "There was just a small magical hiccup which means that you get to stay with me for a few days." (He really hopes it's just a few days.) "As soon as it's fixed, you can go back to your family. You have a sister, right?"

Normal Fenris never speaks of Varania, reacting with an implacable scowl whenever Hawke suggests finding her again, but little Fenris seems much less opposed to the idea when he nods. "I need to help her and mother with the cleaning."

"And you can still do that," Hawke says. He's not particularly comfortable with using the promise of future slavery as an incentive but hey, desperate times. "We're just borrowing you for a little while and then we'll send you right back home."

Fenris' eyes light up as he sits straighter. "I can help you with the cleaning too, ser?"

In all the years they've been together, Hawke can't remember Fenris cleaning a single thing other than his sword and his feet. This level of enthusiasm for domestic chores is therefore deeply disconcerting.

"Let's see how we get on," he says, as non-committally as possible. "There are some other things I need your help with first if that's okay?"

Fenris steels himself but nods nonetheless. "Yes, ser."

"Hawke," he corrects. "You don't need to call me 'ser'."

"Yes, Hawke."

It's lacking Fenris' usual fond disapproval but Hawke decides it's a start.

"All right," he says, "task one: find you some real clothes."

Fenris' mouth drops open. "Ser?"

"You can't wear that all day," Hawke says, gesturing to the lopsided tunic currently held on Fenris' body with optimism and a bootlace. "I'm not exactly renowned for my fashion choices but even I know this isn't good."

Fenris fidgets, embarrassed, and Hawke pats him on the shoulder. "It's easily fixed, don't worry. Follow me."

Taking Fenris' hand in his, Hawke coaxes him up off the bench and across the market where he greets the store-owner with a broad smile. "Jean Luc! How's my favorite merchant?"

He catches Hubert's offended noise from somewhere behind them but opts to ignore it.

"Messere Hawke!" Jean Luc beams at him. "What can I do for you today? Are you seeking to rid yourself of some more torn trousers? Perhaps some weathered dwarven clan pins?"

"Maybe next week," Hawke says cheerfully. "I'm here because I need new clothes."

Jean Luc's smile broadens until it's bordering on maniacal. "Splendid, messere. I had been wondering when you might update your wardrobe to something which didn't come out of a dragon's stomach."

"Oh. No," Hawke says, patting his belly. "This is still good. I think the dragon juices made it stronger somehow."

Jean Luc's nostrils flare in poorly concealed disgust. At Hawke's side, Fenris is staring at his armor with renewed fascination. He gives it a curious sniff.

"It isn't for me," Hawke says. "It's for him."

He gestures to Fenris who promptly retreats behind Hawke's thigh.

"Ah." Jean Luc tilts his head. "I'm afraid there isn't much demand for high quality clothing for elves but I may have some children's clothes which would suit." He purses his lips. "What are your thoughts on plaidweave?"

Fortunately for everyone involved, plaidweave is swiftly vetoed, along with most other bright colors or gaudy fashions.

Fenris tries on almost everything child-sized in stock, spinning in increasingly wobbly circles for Hawke to inspect his outfits, and Hawke quickly learns to differentiate between Fenris' obedient acquiescence and his genuine happiness with the clothing choices made.

Nearly an hour later, Fenris is comfortably decked out in a soft red tunic and some dark leggings, while Hawke stuffs half a dozen more outfits into his backpack with a grateful nod to Jean Luc. "Thanks for your help."

"A pleasure," Jean Luc calls after them as they head up the stairs. "I am always happy to assist if you acquire any more elves!"

Already at elf capacity, Hawke ignores the offer and shepherds Fenris through the crowd as he explains, "We're going up to the Viscount's Keep. There's some people there I need to see."

Fenris looks up at him, open and trusting. "What's the Viscount's Keep?"

"It's where the viscount lives," Hawke says before realising that probably isn't helpful. "The viscount is the one who rules the city. Like an Archon, I guess."

Fenris' grip tightens on Hawke's fingers and Hawke glances down to see him looking between his new clothes and the looming tower of the Viscount's Keep in fear.

"What-" Hawke begins at the same time as Fenris asks, "Am I being sacrificed?"

Hawke comes to a screeching halt in the middle of the square. Behind him, a couple of nobles grumble as they bump into him but Hawke pays them no attention as he crouches down in front of Fenris.

"You are not being sacrificed," he says, horrified. "Why would you even think that?"

"The vilicus gave Thanis new clothes before he was bled," Fenris says. "The magisters wanted him to look nice for the ritual."

No words come to mind when Hawke opens his mouth and so he settles for pulling Fenris into a hug instead. Fenris lets out a squeak of surprise but he doesn't struggle as Hawke takes a slow breath in and out.

He's always known how lucky he is to have met Fenris, how fortunate it was that Fenris survived the lyrium and Seheron and years on the run, but he's starting to realise there's a whole lot more luck which he needs to be grateful for.

"Ser?" Fenris whispers. "Hawke?"

"Right," Hawke says, pulling back quickly. "Sorry. Yes." Trying very hard not to have a small breakdown at the thought of this Fenris being sacrificed in a Tevinter blood magic ritual, Hawke kisses the top of his head and stands up straight again. "No sacrificing. Ever. Kirkwall is a sacrifice-free place."

It's a lie -- there are a worrying amount of pro-sacrifice mages in Kirkwall -- but it does its job when Fenris' expression brightens.

Apparently satisfied that he won't be cruelly slaughtered in the immediate future, Fenris reaches up to take Hawke's hand again, and Hawke takes a deep breath as he looks up at the Keep.

One day, when he has his own version of Fenris back, they are absolutely taking a vacation to burn down all of Tevinter.

 

 

+++

 

 

"Are you seeing the viscount?"

"Sort of," Hawke says, licking his thumb and rubbing a stubborn bit of soot off Fenris' cheek. "We're between viscounts at the moment -- the last one had a run in with some qunari. I'm seeing the seneschal."

Fenris' lips move silently as he puzzles over the new word and Hawke smiles. "It's like a steward."

"Oh." Fenris' brow smoothes out in understanding. "Should I serve wine?"

"You don't need to serve anything," Hawke says. "Tragically this is a very sober affair. I'm not sure if Seneschal Bran would find me more or less tolerable after a few glasses of wine."

Fenris frowns. "The seneschal dislikes you?"

"With a passion," Hawke says cheerfully.

Fenris' frown deepens. "And that doesn't anger you?"

"I'm not really an angry person," Hawke says, trying and failing to make Fenris' hair lie flat. "Also I'm pretty sure disapproving of me is the highlight of his day. I wouldn't want to disappoint him by suddenly being respectable."

Thinking back to the last exchange between Seneschal Bran and grown-up Fenris (which primarily consisted of glares and judgmental noises on both sides), Hawke pats him on the head. "You'll understand when you're older."

Fenris' brow furrows but he doesn't protest when Hawke straightens his collar and stands back up. "I need you to stay with a friend of mine while I go talk to the seneschal. You'll like her; she's by far the most respectable person I know."

"Yes, Hawke."

Guiding Fenris down the stairs to the guard barracks, Hawke pauses outside the door to Aveline's office. "I'm going in to explain the situation. You just need to stand there and look cute, okay?"

Fenris blinks up at him, perplexed.

Hawke claps him on the shoulder with a grin. "Nailed it."

The door to Aveline's office swings open when he knocks and Hawke peeks inside. "Aveline?"

Aveline's head appears from the other side of a stack of paperwork and Hawke sweeps into the office before she can tell him to leave. "Aveline! Light of my life! Fire of my-"

Aveline's eyes narrow.

"...fireplace." Hawke finishes. "I may need a small favor."

"You always need a favor," Aveline says but Hawke is pleased to note that she's smiling. "They're rarely small."

"This is tiny," Hawke promises. "At least half the size of a normal favor. I need to speak to Seneschal Bran about some bandits, and then go out and kill said bandits, and then come back and collect the reward."

Aveline stands up from her desk chair. "I can organise the guard? Come with you to speed up the job?"

"You could," Hawke agrees, "but what I really need you to do is keep an eye on a very important person while I take care of it."

"Very imp-" She folds her arms. "Hawke, did you kidnap another prince?"

"Kidnap is a very strong word," Hawke says. "Prince Hanlin was definitely more of a volunteer."

She arches an eyebrow and Hawke yields. "No. No princes. Just one very small, very well-behaved elf."

On cue, Fenris sidles out from behind the doorframe and takes up his usual position behind Hawke's leg.

Aveline looks between them, stunned. "Is that..."

"Yep."

"How-"

"Magic."

"When did-"

"This morning."

Her expression is almost accusatory when she looks back up at Hawke. "I knew I should've come with you on that mission."

"I'm always devastated when you don't come," Hawke agrees.

The door squeaks behind him as Donnic walks in and Hawke gulps as he reconsiders his last words. "I mean, uh, I'm sad when you're not in my party. For missions. In a totally appropriate capacity." He gives Donnic an awkward wave. "Guardsman."

"Hawke," Donnic says with a nod. "How are-" He stops as his gaze travels down to Fenris. "Who..."

"Hawke has managed to turn Fenris into a small child," Aveline summarises.

"Hey!" Hawke protests. "I didn't do the turning. I was just there when the turning happened."

Aveline makes an unimpressed noise. "And now he wants me to look after the child while he kills bandits."

"That part may be accurate," Hawke admits, "but I really need to kill these bandits today or the Coterie will beat me to it. It's an emergency."

"In that case, of course we can look after the tyke," Donnic says, smiling. "I'm sure we can find him something to do around here."

"Guardsman!" Aveline snaps.

Donnic's smile fades. "Oh. Was that not the approach we were taking?"

"No, it was not."

"Are you sure?" Donnic tries. "I mean, it's Fenris. I'm sure he'd do the same if either of us were in this situation."

Aveline folds her arms. "Hawke, if I am ever magically transformed into an infant, you are not to leave me with Fenris." She purses her lips. "Or Anders. Or the pirate. Just leave me your dog for protection and I'm sure I'll be able to fend for myself."

"Noted," Hawke says. "But, until that day comes, how about you keep an eye on Fenris for me?" He coaxes Fenris forward and spins him in an unsteady circle. "Look, he even picked out some new clothes for the occasion."

Fenris looks up at Aveline nervously, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic, and Hawke can pinpoint the moment her resolve cracks.

"Perhaps we could watch him for a short while," she says, scowling when Hawke beams in triumph. "No more than two hours though."

"I will be an efficient bandit-killing machine," Hawke promises and drops into a crouch beside Fenris. "I need you to stay here with Aveline and Donnic for me. If Aveline does anything remotely silly, I expect you to give me all the details when I get back. Deal?"

Fenris' lips curve in a little smile as he reaches out to shake Hawke's hand. "Deal."

"Perfect." He springs back to his feet, spinning to face Aveline and Donnic. "Please know that I love you both in a deep, totally appropriate way."

"We're aware," Aveline says.

Donnic approaches Fenris, pulling off his helmet and kneeling down beside him, and Hawke ruffles both of their hair before making a dash for the door. "Thank you! I'll be back soon!"

He hears Aveline say something disapproving in response but, in a move borne of experience, he's up the stairs and out of the door before he can make out what it is.

As he heads up to find Seneschal Bran, he can't help the feeling of relief at the knowledge that, at least for the next couple of hours, Fenris is safe with someone who will take good care of him.

For the first time in his life, Hawke wishes he were friends with more responsible adults.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry updates for this are so slow but it is continuing, I promise! Thank you to everyone who's been reading/commenting/kudosing - it is very much appreciated!

Despite his assurances to Aveline, it's three hours before Hawke makes it back to the Keep. He's confident in his excuses -- he couldn't have known that touching a mysterious sparkling scroll would lead to being attacked by some very robust corpses -- but he's still braced for disapproval as he heads down to the barracks.

He's quiet as he moves down the stairs, listening to the clatter of wood and the clink of armor, but he smiles in surprise when he recognises Fenris' delighted laugh rise above the noise. "Got you!"

His voice is still that of a child, suggesting that Aveline has been unable to turn Fenris back to his normal age through stern expressions alone. Nonetheless, it's definitely the voice of a happy child which is already more than Hawke has managed to accomplish today.

Somewhere in Aveline's office, Donnic lets out an exaggerated groan. "You fiend! I'm gravely wounded! But! I still have one health potion left..."

He growls and Hawke pokes his head around the corner when he hears Fenris laugh again. Donnic brings his wooden practice sword down slowly enough for Fenris to parry the blow and he staggers back, faux wounded, when Fenris stabs at his thigh. "Arrgh!"

The practice sword is big enough that Fenris has to hold it as a two-handed weapon. He favours his right arm, the left still held in a cast, but the injury doesn't seem to have dulled his enthusiasm as he lunges in for the kill. What he lacks by way of his usual grace, he makes up with in his usual ferocity and Donnic slumps to the floor, hands raised. "I yield, I yield!"

Hawke initiates a well-deserved round of applause and smiles when Fenris whirls around to face him.

Half-expecting Fenris to fall to his knees, Hawke's grin widens when Fenris drops the sword and comes running over to him.

The guard helmet balanced on his head is far too big and Hawke tugs it off as Fenris looks up at him, excited and breathless. "Hawke!"

"Well, I see not that much has changed," Aveline says from behind her desk.

She's the picture of exhaustion, hairband askew and cheeks flushed, and Hawke scoops Fenris up in his arms before approaching. "Did you have fun with Aveline and Donnic?"

Fenris nods vehemently. "I had a sword!"

"And you did a lot of damage with it," Aveline says fondly. "Poor Brennan's still limping from that blow to her shin. He's a good fighter, I'll give him that. Even without the lyrium."

Fenris frowns, some of his energy ebbing now that he's back in his familiar napping spot, and Hawke straightens his tunic as he teases, "Raw talent, what can I say?"

"'Thank you' would be a start," Aveline says, smiling. "You have a strange definition of 'no more than two hours'."

"I know, I know," Hawke says, doing his best to look apologetic. "I was just on my way back when all these corpses came out of nowhere."

"Nowhere, hmm?" Aveline leans back in her chair. "And you didn't touch any cursed objects of any kind, right?"

"Of course not," Hawke lies. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"For the sake of our friendship, I'm going to refrain from answering that," she says. "We weren't sure when you'd be back so we gave him some supper about an hour ago."

"Thank you," Hawke says, bouncing Fenris a little in his arms. "I'm assuming it all went well? Aside from the shin injuries."

"It took him a while to come out of his shell," Donnic says, wiping the sweat off his forehead, "but once he got comfortable with us, he seemed pretty happy. He's a good kid. Very helpful."

"Too helpful," Aveline says, eyeing Fenris with sympathy. "I take it someone's looking into how to reverse this?"

"Merrill and Anders are all over it," Hawke promises. "Or they will be all over it first thing tomorrow morning." He looks at Fenris hopefully. "Hey, speaking of morning, how do you feel about having a sleepover with Uncle Donnic and Auntie Aveline tonight?"

"No," Donnic and Aveline say simultaneously.

"But-"

"I need to organise the rotas," Aveline says. "Write up my reports, inspect the equipment room, respond to a complaint from one of the Rose's patrons-"

"Sleep for a few days," Donnic adds as he strolls over. "Sorry, Hawke. We're happy to help but we may have reached our limit for today." He pats Fenris on the shoulder and says to him, "I'm sure you'll have a great time at Hawke's house."

Fenris nods, resting his head against Hawke's shoulder, and Donnic smiles. "He missed you, you know."

Hawke rolls his eyes but keeps his voice low nonetheless. "He barely remembers me."

"I don't know," Donnic says, "you seem to have made quite an impression."

"As long as I've not scarred him for life somehow, I'll take it," Hawke says with a sigh. Fenris cuddles closer, resting his arm over Hawke's shoulder, and Hawke strokes his back as he says, "Let's get you home. You can terrorise the guard with your swordplay tomorrow."

Fenris gives him a shy smile. "I like swords."

Hawke can remember normal Fenris saying the exact same thing after a bottle of wine. The memory lingers for a moment, bringing with it the unsteady homesickness he's been feeling since his Fenris disappeared, but he pulls himself together as he gives the miniature version a pat on the back. "I'm glad to hear it. Maybe when we get home we can have a go with some of my throwing knives."

Aveline's head snaps up, aghast.

"Or we could do something different and safe which in no way involves knives," Hawke says quickly.

Aveline sighs. "Please try not to kill each other."

"It's my number one priority," Hawke says with sincerity before looking back to Fenris. "Come on, kiddo, let's get you home. Do you want to say goodbye to Aveline and Donnic?"

Fenris nods, sitting up straighter in Hawke's arms, and Hawke rotates to let him wave over his shoulder. "Bye! Thank you!"

"Our pleasure," Donnic says, waving back. "Be good for Hawke."

Fenris' hair flops into his eyes when he nods again and Hawke brushes it back out of his face as he heads for the door. Fenris settles in his arms, evidently adapting quickly to being hauled around like a child-shaped sack of potatoes, and Hawke grins when he catches sight of the fond expressions on Aveline and Donnic's faces as they depart.

The 'look cute' strategy was a resounding success.

 

+++

 

"Demon!"

Hawke barely manages to close the front door before Fenris is behind him, clinging onto the back of his trousers for dear life.

"Hey, it's all right," Hawke says, glancing around his demon-free house in confusion. "There aren't any demons here."

The dog comes bounding down the stairs to investigate the commotion but things click into place when Fenris shrinks back in fear. "Please..."

Detaching Fenris from his legs, Hawke hoists him up in his arms once again to save him from the dog's affections. He can feel the tremors running through Fenris' little hands as he curls his fingers in Hawke's shirt and Hawke kisses his forehead by way of reassurance.

"This isn't a demon," he promises. "This is my mabari. Well, our mabari, technically. She adopted you before you even moved in."

Fenris peers down at the dog, unconvinced. "It's not a demon?"

"Not to my knowledge," Hawke says. "Are you, Pancake?"

The mabari leaps up with a yap of agreement. Hawke staggers a little when her paws come to rest against his hip but he keeps his balance as he scratches behind her ears.

"I'm not exactly an expert in the arcane," Hawke says, "but I don't think a demon would be this excited about ear scritches."

Pancake barks in agreement, tail wagging at full force as she lifts her nose to investigate Fenris' bare feet. Fenris lets out a frightened yelp, scrambling up until he's nearly sitting on Hawke's shoulder, and Hawke can't keep from smiling as he says, "It's okay. She's just saying hello."

Balancing Fenris on one arm, he holds out his hand. Pancake shoves her wet nose against it, licking at Hawke's palm in the hopes of discovering some well-hidden food, and Hawke chuckles at the tickling sensation.

"See? She just wants to give you a sniff."

Fenris' brow furrows -- while being accosted by demons is apparently something he's familiar with, being sniffed at by an enthusiastic mabari remains new territory. Nonetheless, he sinks down a little from Hawke's shoulder and eyes Pancake with suspicion as she noses at his feet.

He relaxes further when he realises he isn't being hurt and Hawke watches Fenris' reaction carefully when he says, "You can pet her if you like? She won't bite."

Pancake's tail wags harder at the mere mention of pettings. Fenris hesitates, lip caught between his teeth, but Hawke stays quiet as he gathers his courage and reaches down to give her a tentative pat on the head.

Pancake barks in delight, prancing in a proud little circle as soon as Fenris takes his hand away, and a surprised smile spreads across Fenris' face. He watches, rapt, as Pancake rolls onto her back, clearly seeking belly scritches, and Hawke grins when he asks, "Should I put you down?"

Fenris nods. Pancake clambers back up onto all fours, apparently happy with any kind of attention, and Hawke sets Fenris on his feet to meet her face to face.

There's a long moment of uncertain staring which is soon punctured when Pancake bounds forward and licks Fenris' face. Fenris recoils, smiling as he scrubs at his cheek, and Hawke gives Pancake a pat on the ribs. "Good girl."

She trots around Fenris in a small circle, the movements of her tail slowing in confusion, and then looks up at Hawke with a questioning whine, as if to ask where the rest of Fenris has gone.

"I know," Hawke says with sympathy. "He's much tinier than usual. We're working on making him big again."

Pancake barks in approval, clearly also a fan of normal sized Fenris. She circles back around and Fenris reaches out to pat her, smiling when Pancake butts her head against his hand.

"Do you own her?" he asks.

"Sort of," Hawke says. "She's more of a companion than a pet. I'm the one people complain to when she steals their laundry though -- she has a terrible weakness for socks." He crouches, scritching under Pancake's chin. "You can trust her. She'd never hurt you."

Fenris nods, stroking down Pancake's head. They're almost the same height although the mismatch in bulk is evident when Pancake's pleased wriggle almost knocks Fenris off his feet.

"Easy," Hawke warns, giving her another pat. "He's had a long day. Be gentle."

As if to prove how long his day has been, Fenris yawns widely and Hawke gives him a quick pat too as he says, "I was going to see if you wanted a bath but it looks like bed might be the winner here. Are you ready to sleep?"

Fenris glances hopefully around the room. "I can sleep here?"

"Uh, sure?" Hawke says, sizing up the couch. "I mean, the bedrooms are upstairs but I can get some blankets if you..."

Fenris' eyes light up and Hawke trails off when he sees Fenris making a beeline for the dog bed in the corner. The cushion's been chewed through in places -- Pancake has a lot of food-related dreams -- and the filling is lumpy and lopsided but Fenris is curled up on it before Hawke can stop him.

At Hawke's feet, Pancake tilts her head in confusion and looks up at Hawke for an explanation as to why there is a small elf in her preferred sleeping spot.

Hawke does not have a good answer.

"I didn't mean there?" he tries and immediately regrets it when Fenris scrambles out of the makeshift bed, head lowered in contrition.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammers. "I can sleep on the floor, ser. I'm sorry."

"No-one's sleeping on the floor," Hawke says, kneeling down next to him. "I just meant that the cushion is Pancake's bed. You can sleep wherever else you want -- I can set up some pillows and blankets on the couch for you or you can take one of the big guest beds."

Fenris' eyes widen. "I can have a bed?"

"You can have the best bed," Hawke promises. "It's very bouncy." He holds out a hand. "Do you want to come with me to investigate?"

Fenris reaches up to take his hand, apparently still blown away at the prospect of an actual bed, and Hawke tries to ignore the lump in his throat as he leads him up to the most comfortable guest room. Pancake trots at their heels but otherwise gives Fenris space as Hawke shepherds him into the spare room and gestures to the bed with a bow. "Your room, good ser."

Fenris' mouth falls open in disbelief.

Hawke winces. "I'm hoping that's a good sign."

Letting go of Hawke's hand, Fenris inches forward, looking around at the bedroom in amazement. It's fairly standard as guest rooms go, with a wardrobe, chest and wash basin lining the walls and a hefty four poster bed in the centre of the room, but from the way Fenris is staring at it, the whole place may as well be made of solid gold.

"This is mine?" he asks, turning back to Hawke for approval. "I can sleep here?"

"For as long as you like," Hawke promises. "Is it okay?"

Fenris nods mutely. He reaches out to touch one of the bedposts, fingers tracing the patterns in the wood and when he looks back up at Hawke, the sheer gratitude on his face is almost painful to see. "I- Thank you, ser."

The curtains are open still, the last of the evening's sunlight streaming in over the rooftops, and Hawke moves in to lift Fenris up onto the bed itself. "Do you want to test out the mattress?"

Fenris wobbles when Hawke sets him down, clinging onto the bedpost for balance, but he soon adjusts to the softness of the bed beneath his bare feet. He pads over to the pillows, still wearing an expression of disbelief, and drops down to lay in the middle of the bed.

Hawke smiles. "Comfy?"

"Yes, ser."

Despite his obvious exhaustion, there's an odd tension in the way Fenris holds himself and Hawke frowns. "Is it too big? I can make up a different bed if you-"

He's interrupted by Pancake barging past him. She leaps up onto the bed, bouncing happily on the mattress, and Hawke moves to shoo her off. "Hey, I know you think all the beds are your domain but this one is Fenris'. Go reclaim your cushion downstairs."

Pancake gives a judgemental huff and promptly flops down on the bed beside Fenris.

Hawke sighs. "That is the opposite of what I wanted you to do. Come on, Pancake, go-"

He stops himself when he realises some of the tension has eased from Fenris' body. Pancake curls up next to him, stretching out happily on top of the sheets, and Fenris strokes a hand through her fur as he yawns.

"Or stay there?" Hawke finishes. "That works."

Pancake makes a smug little noise as she nuzzles her head against Fenris' neck. Fenris cuddles in close, eyes falling shut, and before Hawke can bring up having a wash, wearing pajamas, or getting under the sheets, Fenris is fast asleep.

Pancake's snoring starts up a few moments later and Hawke steps back with a smile, unable to bring himself to wake either of them.

He's exhausted too, worn out from the day's combat and childminding in equal measure, but as he tiptoes to his empty bed, he still can't get rid of the lump in his throat at Fenris' reaction to the sleeping arrangements.

While his beds in Lothering and at Gamlen's house weren't always the most comfortable, he's never been in a position where sleeping on a half-chewed dog bed would be considered an improvement. As he strips down and climbs into his own bed, he decides that he is never complaining about Fenris hogging the covers again.


End file.
